Cooperation
by Unfortunate Fates
Summary: Kurt knows the world doesn't revolve around him, but when he and Blaine get caught in a situation bigger than them, can they get out?  No spoilers, no character death, but Rated T for plenty of angst and violence.
1. Fun

**A/N: I'm in a dark, angsty Klaine mood, so if you aren't a fan of angst, I would run. Fast. If you're open to trying it, read ahead brave one. This was just something in my head, I wrote it more to make it go away than anything else. Let me know if it's worth continuing! (And no, no character death if I do. I promise.)**

**Disclaimer: Glee isn't mine. Sorry. Try again next time.**

I was dragged roughly into a damp, dark room and thrown there. I staggered, trying to keep my balance, but what was the point anymore? It didn't matter if I kept my balance or if I just fell. Just let myself fall into the darkness that would surely overtake me if I slipped. There was just one thing, or person rather, who kept me holding on. I thought of this person as I managed to stay on my feet. As I managed to stay awake and, more surprisingly, lucid in the hours of solitude. When things were impossible to bear, I thought of him.

I never dreamed that they'd use him against me. Or me against him, for that matter.

Xxx

"What do you want from me?" I asked, waking up to find myself tied to a chair, hands behind my back. I squirmed a little bit until I was stopped with a glare from my captor.

"What do we want from _you?_ Oh, this is much bigger than you will ever know. It isn't about just you; it's about everything being worth it. Years of planning. Money. Yeah, it's a whole lot bigger than you." The voice was derisive and harsh.

The man in front of me was tall, relatively muscular, and angry. His shaggy brown hair was sticking out at odd angles and his mouth was curled into a snarl. I was literally shaking. I'd never been in such a dangerous situation in my life. Death threats from insecure closet cases were one thing, but facing death completely? A very different story.

"Then why am I here?" I hated the fact that my voice shook. I didn't show weakness, it was one of the things I was most proud of. I could always be counted on for a biting comeback, and I felt useless without one.

"We needed a way to _convince_ a certain congressman's son to cooperate."

My blood ran cold. They wouldn't. They couldn't…they couldn't do this! To him of all people. He'd never hurt a fly. He was so full of love and life and confidence. I couldn't bear to do this to him. To be used as bait. As a pawn.

I took a deep breath, intending to steady myself. Instead, I coughed. The air was musky and full of dust particles, and it smelled moldy. Wrinkling my nose in disgust, I tried in vain to clear images out of my head.

Images of me and of _him_, bleeding. Images of death and terror.

Perhaps they weren't images. Perhaps they were insight to the future. But no- I couldn't let myself think of it that way. I would drive myself insane if I overanalyzed every detail like I was so prone to doing.

"I'm assuming you know who I'm talking about." I nodded mutely, attempting to keep the tears from spilling over.

"Weak," he muttered, grinning in a way that made shivers run up my spine. "That'll make my life easier. Task number one: convince him to come here."

"Why would I do that?" Not the wittiest retort, but it was certainly more confident. I felt myself calm down just the slightest bit before I caught the gleam in his eye. He walked over, kneeling down to my level and getting far too close before whispering in my ear.

"Do you have a high tolerance for pain?"

Xxx

"Stop," I panted, "Stop!"

"Done already? We were just starting to have some fun!" I snarled, the sound shockingly primal, and glared. The past hour had been torturous. Literally.

I was bruised, cut, and my pride had been stomped on and run through the garbage disposal. Every time I wanted to just give up, I thought of him. But how long could that last if we had all the time in the world? The final straw had been when I couldn't picture his face anymore. I was terrified. There was nothing to hold on to. His name had rung dully in my head, but it was like the name of a stranger. Not the name of someone worth fighting for.

I tried to imagine his voice, but nothing came. As my breathing returned to normal, I was aware of massive pain in several areas of my body, but I was too dazed to know the difference from my head and my foot.

"You are a despicable person." My brazenly idiotic provocation had earned another cut, deep in some unrecognizable area. I screamed against my own will, despising the way it echoed off the walls.

"Your screams are beautiful, but if you want this to end, you just have to make one phone call."

"I- I give up. I'll do it."

Smith, I'd learned his name was (how cliché), handed me the phone and I dropped it, my hands shaking from self-loathing. I just knew I couldn't go on with the agony. There had to be another way. I'd never get out on my own.

It was returned to my hands roughly, and I struggled to hold on this time. After being prodded in the back, I started dialing, having to stop every few seconds. The tears clouding my vision made it hard to discern which number was which. Finally, the screen said _Dialing_ and I was almost relieved. Relieved, until I realized why I was calling in the first place.

The phone rang, and for one glorious moment I thought he wouldn't answer. I was wrong.

"Hello?" I almost cried, hearing that voice again. How could I have forgotten the most beautiful voice I'd ever heard?

"Hey, it's me."

"Kurt?"

"Uh huh," my voice was thick with tears.

"Are you all right?" Concern instantly colored his tone.

"I need you to come to…" I looked up, breathing unnaturally. Everything about me was unnatural. Anger and sadness came in lulls, replaced by a dull numbness that seized me. It was wrong, so wrong, but there was nothing I could do. When he gave me the address I repeated it lifelessly, tonelessly.

"I need to know you're okay." That was the tone Blaine had perfected. The concerned, overprotective side. It was awful that it was being used against him in this situation.

"Depends on your definition of okay. Is okay emotional or physical? How about mental? Because I am not going to be 'okay' anytime soon. I won't. It'll just get worse, no matter what I do," my words started to rush together until I was just saying everything my mind conjured up, "I can't win, and I don't know what to do, and I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm wrong and I hate myself right now but I can't not do it, you have to understand…" And I burst into tears. I could feel the murderous glance piercing my back but I didn't even care. It wasn't as if my life could get any worse at the moment.

His panic was very nearly tangible. "I'm on my way. Don't be sorry, don't ever be sorry. I promised to come if you needed me, so I am. You were right to call. Hold on."

I pressed end, unable to respond. How do you answer someone you just hurt unimaginably if they aren't aware? How can you answer when you've betrayed them? I wanted to bury my head in my hands with shame, and it felt like sick, twisted irony when even that simplest of motions was taken away by the thick cords digging into the sensitive skin on my wrists.

"Well done. You could be useful. That blabbering was actually quite effective. I'm impressed." I wanted to spit at him, but my mouth was dry from crying out.

"Until your little friend gets here, try to make yourself comfortable. You shouldn't have to wait too long, though," and he winked. He actually had the audacity to wink at me. To further humiliate me at my lowest point. The rage gave way to every other emotion hiding beneath the surface, and the fatigue eventually won out.

But not before I recalled his voice one last time. I swore I'd never forget again. Not even if it cost me my life. Some things were worth dying for. He was one of them.

Xxx

"Kurt! Kurt? Are you down there?" I heard his voice penetrate the darkness and was alert immediately. I cam so close to telling him to run away, but he would just be back again in time. And I would be worse for the wear.

"Answer him."

"Yeah, I'm here." The tears in my voice sent him at double speed, sprinting down the worn stairs. Directly into the arms of two waiting henchmen.

He put up quite a fight, thrashing wildly, but he was no match for two large, muscular guards who had the element of surprise on their side. He spun around, looking for me, and his eyes met mine for the briefest of moments.

"Mr. Anderson!" cried my tormentor, smiling. "How nice of you to come join us. Really, the party wasn't complete without you."

"Who are you?"

"Why don't you ask your friend? He was the one who brought you here, wasn't he?"

The betrayal in his eyes was almost physically painful.

"I didn't want to, they made me-" I was silenced by a blow to the stomach that made me double over in pain. I gasped unintentionally. That would bruise.

"Hey! What are you doing? He was just answering the question!"

"I wouldn't talk so much, Anderson. We can't touch you, but we sure as hell can make you cooperate, can't we?" The guards nodded in agreement, still pinning his arms behind his back.

A dawning comprehension came over his face. He realized what was happening the same way I had. His usually warm hazel eyes turned steely and he set his gaze upon the hated Smith.

"What do you want? I'll give it to you. Just let him go."

"Must I repeat myself? Listen kid, this is much bigger than you, and it's much bigger than your friend. Right now, you cooperate, or we have some more fun with the person we're actually allowed to hit." And with that, he left the room.

He turned to me, eyes wide with horror and confusion. "_More_ fun?" he choked out.

"It took them awhile before they could convince me to call you." I squirmed a little, trying to get comfortable, but nothing worked. The rope just dug deeper into my skin. I wished he would come untie me, but he just seemed to be frozen, standing ten feet away.

"What did they do to you?" His eyes were tear-filled.

"They broke me." That was all there was to it. And that broke the dam. He ran over to me, untying my wrists. He worked quickly but so carefully, and I could tell he didn't want me to be in any more pain than I was already in.

"Show me." His voice was strangely flat.

I took off my shirt gingerly, wincing as a cut reopened just by the gentle friction of fabric against skin. His eyes widened, staring at my chest. What- oh. I supposed it wasn't as bad as it could've been. Large bruises were already forming and I had a few longer gashes, but all in all I felt all right, if a little sore.

He gasped, eyes raking over my bare chest. Under any other circumstance I would be blushing, but this was so different. The light in his eyes changed to a fierce determination, and he opened his mouth to say something when Smith walked in.

"All right, then. I see you've got him untied! Fantastic, just great. Well, you're ready then?"

"No." he replied coldly, gaze locked in mine.

"Are you sure about that?" Smith asked, smiling evilly, "We wouldn't want your friend to have to pay, would we?"

A sharp jerk of the head from him was all I needed to know he would never say no to any request made by Smith. Or by any of his men, for that matter.

"Perfect, perfect. Would you like to tell us what you know about the ring of conspirators your father is a part of, Mr. Anderson?"

His face was pure confusion as he answered, "Conspirators?"

Wrong answer. A flash of blinding pain his the back of my head and I barely restrained myself from crying out. As it was, I still fell off the chair, realizing that he'd been dragged off under protest, again. A lone whimper escaped through my lips and I tasted blood from where I'd inadvertently bitten my lip.

"What are you doing? I have no idea what you're talking about!" His voice rose in pitch and took on a panicked tone, his eyes widening until they were almost round. The look would have been comical if not for the terror apparent on his features.

"We need answers," replied Smith calmly, "answers you will give us. Of course, if you'd rather not…" I shuddered.

"I can! I just- answers about what? My dad isn't in a ring of conspirators!" Smith looked pointedly at me, and Blaine swallowed thickly, trying to figure out a way to avoid the situation. Too bad we were already stuck in the middle of it.

"What kind of ring? Maybe I know! I just need a little while. To jog my memory?" His eyes were hopeful, and his tone was rushed. We just needed a little time. But would we get it?

"A little while? You mock me, young Anderson. You really think that _I _would leave you time to think of some ridiculous cover story. You really think so! Ridiculous," he scoffed, "Ridiculous and childish and oh so naïve. Now, can we please get on? We know you have answers. It's just how willing you are to give them that's making me curious. How much would you tell us to keep him safe, hm?"

"I'd tell you anything, but I don't have any information!"

Smith just shook his head sadly, meeting my eyes. "A shame, really."

I braced myself, preparing for the worst. Just as I was about to be beaten to a pulp, I heard a strangled cry.

"No! No, you can't, you can't! It's- it's drugs! They are selling drugs in a ring, and I didn't want to tell you, but I just did!" The desperation in his voice made me shut my eyes. I couldn't bear to see the look on his face. It was my fault.

Tell them something about a ring of conspirators? He did. Tell the truth?

I had a sneaking suspicion he most definitely did not.


	2. Questions

**A/N: Here's chapter 2 for those of you who alerted, favorited, and in one case, reviewed! Thanks so much for the support! I should be working on Because of Me, and I even got a great suggestion for the next chapter, but I can't seem to get past the writers block. You can thank my procrastination on that one for this story. And yes, the angsty mood remains in this chapter.**

** Reviews = love! (and suggestions for how to continue this story are welcomed. I really am not sure where I'm going with it, so chances are if you share an idea I'll end up using it at one point or another.)  
><strong>

** Disclaimer: Glee is mine as much as this story is fluffy**

Smith arched an eyebrow. "Drugs? What kind of drugs?"

I focused on my breathing. In, out. In, out. We both knew that if his acting skills weren't impeccable, I was in for it. My pulse continued to quicken and I could feel it. Could they hear it too? I just tried to stay in control as I watched Blaine fidget nervously in the grasp of two 'henchmen' that were pinning his arms. It was easy for me to tell that he kept trying to run a hand through his hair, and every time he tried the grip on his arms tightened. We locked eyes and I saw the steely resolution hiding the panic and terror that threatened to reign at any given moment.

"Stimulants," he finally responded, voice barely wavering.

"Really?" The word was long, drawn out, and I shook almost imperceptibly beneath my captor.

Blaine just nodded, meeting Smith's cold, calculating gaze. He was stock-still, whole body tensed up. I was the same.

"I can't say I believe you. They say that if someone is desperate enough, they will make things up to get out of the pain. I hope this isn't one of those cases."

"It isn't. I wouldn't joke about something so important." His voice was so steady by now he almost had _me_ convinced.

Smith paused for a moment, a frightening smile on his face. "I'll give you two a while to decide what you want to do. I'm not buying any of this, you know," my heart sank as he continued, "And maybe some alone time will help you realize I'm not playing. Just remember that one of you is definitely disposable."

And with that, he left us.

Blaine was released and he ran over to me, stumbling a little bit as he did. He was about to throw himself at me, but stopped. A hug would just hurt me. Instead he gently put his arms around me, crying into my shoulder. And even though it was hard, I tried to comfort him. I didn't have any words to tell him it would be all right, because in all honesty it probably wouldn't. But sitting on the ground with this boy in my arms, it was easier to keep myself together. Because if I fell apart, who else would be there for him? Not his family. Not his friends. And I couldn't let myself, or him for that matter, fall apart quite yet.

"I- I can't lose you," he sniffled pitifully into my now blood-stained shirt. That would be a nightmare to get out.

"You won't. But you need to calm down. Shhhh," I whispered soothingly. I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt so calm, but I did.

"H-h-how?" That word seemed like it took such an effort to get out, and my heart wrenched uncomfortably. As hard as it was to be used as a human punching bag, I couldn't imagine being in his position.

"Just relax. If you don't calm down and think about this logically we'll never have a plan. And we need one to get out of here."

He continued to cry, the sobs slowly dying out into silent tears. He was still shaking, but it was something. I gently removed him from me, wincing when my head throbbed painfully. Instead of just letting go, he clung harder, and I gasped in pain. The soft noise seemed to startle him enough to gather his wits, and I waited a few more seconds before attempting to plan.

"So we realized that playing dumb-"

"I'm not playing! I really don't know anything!" I sighed exasperatedly at his outburst.

"I know that. But if you keep saying that, I'm going to keep getting hit, and I'm not so sure we want that," Blaine paled and I quickly rushed on, "So I think we need a cover. A good cover, though. We can't have any holes."

He just shook his head, and it was almost as if he was looking through me. His eyes were unfocused and I was starting to get a little worried.

Blaine was always the strong one. He seemed unshakeable. He helped me confront Karofsky, he sang to me, and he made me realize that maybe the word wasn't so dark after all. But here he was, breaking to pieces in front of me. And none of it made any sense. Because this couldn't be the same person who told me that I moved him. This couldn't be the person who stood up for me when nobody else would. And this most definitely couldn't be the person who opened the door for me, who asked me to prom, or who gave me the first real kiss that counted. I struggled through the memories and moved on with the plan.

"You said stimulants? Remember that, okay? Unless you want to change it…"

"No. Stimulants are fine. I don't think I could remember anything new," he admitted, "I'm too freaked out. It's like it's all just a nightmare and I'm gonna wake up any second. But nightmares aren't supposed to hurt. And this hurts. A lot."

My voice cracked as I replied, "It does. But we have to get through it. Now, pretend I'm Smith."

"Smith?"

"Evil guy with the creepy smile? The reason we're here? 'This is bigger than you.' Ring a bell?" His smile was watery, but it was there.

"Yeah, got it."

"Okay. What is the name of the ring?"

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "We never-"

I interrupted him, "It's improvisation. You aren't going to know the answer to every question. Just make something up, and make sure everything you say after that fits in with what you just said."

The look on his face said all I needed to hear. He was lost. Hopelessly lost. I had years upon years of musical theater and acting classes to work with, but he had nothing.

"Again. What's the name of your father's ring?"

He thought for a moment. "Speed."

"Too easy to decipher. It almost sounds amateur. Try again."

We continued patiently until facts had been established. Every so often one of us would fall into tears, and the other would hold us tightly. We said meaningless nothings, but we never said it would be okay. We had no proof that it would.

When we finally had the basics down and Blaine's improv was slightly less awful than it had been before, we just talked. And I knew why Smith had left us alone. Every second we were together was a second closer to not being able to let go. Not even if it meant dying together, which we would never be given the luxury of. We would be easy, so easy to crack. And as I looked at Blaine laughing, talking about some story or another and gesticulating in his wild way, I knew I wasn't letting him go.

Xxx

"Well then, I assume you remembered everything you needed to remember?" The question was directed at Blaine, but I answered instead.

"He's ready."

Even as I said it, the statement seemed to contradict the evidence. Blaine was quite obviously shaking, looking directly at me. I gave him the smallest of smiles, hoping it seemed reassuring in a way. He seemed to calm himself down somewhat, and for a moment I believed he was fine. Then I noticed his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and they were shaking with a huge amount of intensity; I was surprised they didn't move more than they already were.

"First question, I suppose. But before we begin, let me make things very clear. This boy," with a sense of disgust I realized he didn't even know my name, "is by no means important to us. When we finish with him, he will be disposed of. But his condition when we do so is completely controllable. Why, he can be perfectly unharmed if you comply with our demands. Is that understood, Anderson?"

But Blaine was frozen. After a few painfully long seconds, he replied, "D-disposed of?"

In all honesty, that had been my first thought, too. But had I really expected any different? I'd been dragged into all this mess unwillingly, and now I knew things I'd never wanted to know in the first place. That didn't make it any harder for them to hit me.

"Well, naturally. We aren't going to let someone privy to this much information and then let him go. He'd tell everyone about this. And this is to be kept secret."

"Then why did you even bring him here? Why didn't you just bring me? I would've answered you! You didn't have to do this! You didn't have to any of this!" His tone had become murderous and I cringed away at the sound of it. It was the angriest I'd ever seen (or heard) him.

"You already know the answer to that. And you wouldn't have because we couldn't hurt you. We could ask you all you want, but bring someone you actually care about into the picture and we have a party, don't we? Now, I believe I'm the one asking the questions? Unless, of course, you'd rather I spoke with _him_," he gestured towards me and the anger was immediately replaced by fear.

"First question, then?" A pause. "When did you find out your father was in a ring?"

"Two years ago." Good, very good. I found myself about to nod approvingly until I realized that would give us away. We were being watched.

"How did you find out?"

He took a deep breath before answering, "I walked in on a meeting."

"Where was the meeting?"

"In our family room."

The questions went on and on, invariably growing more complicated. Somehow Blaine managed to keep his cool and answered each one with near perfection. In this case, though, near perfection wasn't good enough. About an hour or two in, the tactic suddenly changed and the look in Smith's eyes shifted just a little bit.

"What did you say the man's name was?"

"Martin."

"Really? Because an hour ago you said it was Madison. I'm starting to doubt that anything you said was true."

Blaine paled. It was a miniscule error, but any error could be fatal.

"I'm sure you don't want this," the breath left my body as I was swiftly kneed in the ribs, "to happen again."

I curled around my side, every shallow breath inflaming the pain more. I didn't know how long I stayed there, but the room was quiet. Every so often I would hear a sob coming from him (who else) and it wrenched at my heart. But this was the way it was. It was hard to focus on any one thing, though, because of my side. It felt like it was on fire, and I dimly remembered breaking my arm when I was thirteen. The pain was comparable, but then I knew I was going to be fine. I knew it wasn't going to end badly. I knew I'd survive. Without meaning to, or even realizing why, I burst into tears. I cried for the pain. I cried for the direness of the situation. I cried for my friends and family who I'd never see again.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain started to subside. I tried to get up, but wasn't able to. Helpless, I just lay on the cool, dusty floor and waited for someone to do something. I didn't have to wait long before Blaine spoke up.

"What do you want to know? Please, please just tell me so this can be o-ver!" His voice cracked harshly on the last word and the desperation was almost tangible. I could feel the panic in the air and wondered, not for the first time, what I'd done to get myself into this mess. And why I'd had to drag Blaine into it with me.

"I want the truth," Smith growled, looking at him with murder in his eyes. "And if you aren't willing to give it to me, we can just get rid of this kid and move on. Your parents would pay quite a pretty ransom for you, boy."

"I-I can give it to you. And no, they wouldn't. They always hated me anyways. They'd probably thank you for getting rid of me," he said bitterly.

"You know what? I'm sick of you. And I'm tired. I'm giving you the night to make up your mind. Just know that your friend here screams awful pretty." And with that, he left the room for the night.

My face was still pressed up against the cement, side aching, when he came over to me. He helped me up, ignoring my weak protests.

We ended up sitting in silence, me resting my head against his shoulder. I assumed he was deciding what to do by the look on his face, and I let him think in peace. No matter how skewed the logic, I felt it wasn't my decision to make. Maybe it was my life, but it was going to end anyway. With this grim thought I slowly started to fall asleep, my tired muscles slowly loosening.

Just as I was on the brink of unconsciousness, I heard a broken whisper ask, "What are we gonna do?"

I had no answer for him.


	3. Moment by Moment

**Disclaimer: If I owned Glee there would be very little fluff present, well, anywhere. I guess it's a good thing I don't.**

I woke up in the middle of the night to Blaine's worried face just inches from mine. I was sweating and shaking from the nightmare I'd just had.

"Are you awake this time?" he asked. I just nodded, uncomprehending. "You opened your eyes a few times, but you were still kinda freaking out. Last time you kicked me."

"Sorry," I whispered. He immediately wrapped his arms around me gently, avoiding my still aching ribs.

"Life's too short to be sorry," he said. I froze. My life _was_ going to be short. So short. Shorter than it ever should've been. Blaine seemed to realize his words at the same moment I did.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! That was such a stupid thing to say. I didn't mean it that way, I really didn't."

"But it's true."

He didn't reply, instead just pulling me closer. I leaned into him the slightest bit. Who knew how much more time we had together?

"Blaine?" I asked hesitantly into the darkness only illuminated by a dusty, yellow lamp in the far corner.

"Yeah?"

I suddenly felt this desire, this need to know everything I could about him. If I didn't learn it now, I probably never would. "Tell me something about you I don't know."

He was silent for a few moments, thinking. "I hate carrots. I love watching football, but I've never tried to play. Sometimes I really, really hate being short. I've hated my hair since I was in seventh grade and some jerk cut off a chunk of it. My favorite color was red until I met you. Now it's blue," he blushed slightly before continuing, "I've always been one of the younger ones in my class and my dad teaches English at Ohio State. When I first transferred to Dalton I hated it until I found the Warblers. I'm terrible at French. I love making you blush. I liked you since the moment I met you, but I never realized it until Regionals week. And I'm absolutely terrified of losing you." The last sentence was a whisper, and I had to strain my ears to hear him. The admissions filled me with a sort of warmth, and I yearned to know more. Before I could ask him, though, he replied with a request of his own.

"What don't I know about you?"

I waited before I began. I wanted him to know everything about me; I just didn't know where to begin. "I'm claustrophobic. One time these jerks locked me in a closet and I was stuck for two hours. I was hyperventilating the whole time," his eyes grew wide at this, but I just continued, "I love cooking; I get it from my mom. My dad burns toast. Sometimes when I get sad, I go to my mom's old dresser that I spilled her perfume on forever ago. It- it still smells like her. I used to be a cheerleader and a football player in the same season, and I still don't know if that's even legal. My first real crush was on Finn, who is now my stepbrother, which was all kinds of awkward when he found out. I cried the whole night before I left McKinley because I didn't think I could stand to lose them, and then I met you. I was jealous that you could be so sure of yourself all the time. Every single time we got coffee in the morning I fell for you just a little bit harder. And I'm so, so scared of everything right now. Everything."

We were both silent, taking in the information. When I'd opened my mouth, it was like a dam had broken. Everything I'd ever wanted to tell him had poured out.

The darkness continued to press onto us, but I didn't feel inclined to talk. I strained my eyes and saw noticed that he was looking at me, and I could tell he was memorizing me. I wasted no time in doing the same. I wanted to never forget his dark, curly hair and the way he always ran his hands through it when he was stressed or nervous. I wanted to know beyond a shadow of a doubt the color of his eyes.

With just the slightest hesitance, I reached up and tentatively ran my fingers through his hair.

"I've been wanting to do that since I met you," I admitted.

He said nothing, just closing his eyes as I continued stroking his curls. He made a content humming noise, leaning into me the slightest bit. After the ramblings only minutes before, I felt like we didn't need words. It was electric, and under any other circumstances I would have been extremely nervous. I was a mess. My hair was everywhere, my skin probably looked terrible, and I'd been in the same clothes since yesterday. But everything seemed to fade into the background in that moment.

I could have stayed with him forever like that, but there were things that had to be addressed. "What are you gonna do tomorrow?" I finally asked, dreading the answer.

"I don't know. What do you think? I just really don't want you to get hurt, and I don't know anything. If I keep lying I'll just make a bigger mess of things. You saw how I messed up yesterday. I just don't know anything!"

"You have to tell him that. If you just tell him you don't know anything he'll leave you alone."

"I won't leave you here," he said firmly.

"You won't have to. Just tell the truth."

"I won't let them hurt you," he amended, never taking his eyes off of me. Something in my heart fluttered at his words, but I suppressed it. Now was most definitely not the time to deal with stray emotions. _If we live through this, I'll deal with everything. Until then, moment by moment_. My words didn't reassure me at all. I noticed Blaine waiting for me to answer expectantly.

"If you don't I'll just have to endure this longer. We need to end it." Even as I said those words, I could feel panic welling up inside of me. It was really the only way to go at this point, but could we do it? Could I handle the pain? Could he just stand by and watch as I came undone? My stomach twisted unpleasantly at the thought. _Moment by moment_.

"I don't know if I can." It was a mere whisper, but I heard him loud and clear.

"We have to," I told him, putting the emphasis on _we_, "Because no matter what happens, we'll never be alone."

He reached out and took my hand, rubbing circles into my palm. I looked into his eyes, squinting in the murky light, and I could easily tell they were as terrified as mine were. Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his chastely in a gentle kiss. It was sweet, dry, and full of emotion.

"I love you," he finally said simply, and my heart continued to race. Tears were running down both of our cheeks, but at least I knew he would do what it took to get himself out of this place. I couldn't handle it if he didn't. And as I looked at him I remembered every memory we'd shared. Every moment full of sexual tension, every friendly outing, every song.

"I love you, too."

We lay down together, falling gently into a tangle of limbs, and he played with my hair almost idly. After a few moments in silence, he started humming a soft, lilting tune and I relaxed into him. Picturing him was all I could do to keep away the nightmares, and I imagined every part of him. His laugh, his sparkling eyes, his voice.

And even as our future was being torn away, I was the happiest I'd ever been.

Xxx

I cried out in pain after being forced into consciousness by a rough kick to my injured rib. Opening my eyes, I saw Smith standing over me, smirking at my obvious discomfort.

"Good morning to you, too," I mumbled to myself. Thankfully, he didn't seem to hear.

Blaine woke up with a start next to me at my movement, and soon we were all fully awake, waiting for something to happen. There was a pit in my stomach because no matter what happened, there wouldn't be a happy ending. No rainbows or unicorns or riding off into the sunset.

I felt my arms being grabbed, and, too tired to resist, I let myself be dragged to the hard, wooden chair in the corner that I'd found myself tied to when I woke up yesterday.

Smith finally spoke up, "Well Anderson, I certainly hope you've made a decision."

Blaine stood and nodded tensely.

"Good, then. Now, are you going to give me the _real_ facts this time? Or are you going to make up some more. I'm sure your friend wouldn't appreciate that."

"I don't know anything." His face was devoid of emotion.

"So you're going to play _that_ game?" he asked menacingly.

"I've never heard my father say anything about a ring of conspirators."

Smith just shook his head in amazement, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Are you sure about that? It really would be a shame if his rib were broken. I wonder if it would hurt if we hit it again…"

Blaine immediately blanched, looking at me. I tried to send him comfort through my eyes, but it was difficult to do while I was thinking about getting hit again. I hoped my internal grimace hadn't actually translated to my face.

Blaine tried valiantly to steady his breathing and keep his face emotionless as he said, "I told you. I don't even think such a ring exists. I don't know why you're punishing us for something we don't know about."

"We aren't punishing _him_ so much as you. This kid we couldn't care less about. We'd have just killed him on our way if he hadn't confessed to knowing you first. Then we decided we might as well get some use out of him. Of course, that was when we thought you'd be easy to break. I didn't want to have to play dirty, but I guess it's our only hope at this point…we need the information." Smith's face turned grim.

I braced myself, knuckles turning white as I gripped the chair I was sitting on. If I didn't hold on to something I felt like I would drift away.

"Now. I'm going to ask a question, and you are going to answer me," his words were slow and menacing, "When did you find out?"

"I never did."

I couldn't help but shout at the sudden fiery pain in my side as I was kicked. My eyes were swimming with tears when I looked up again, and every breath I took felt like my lungs were ripping apart.

Picture his face. The random thought drifted into my mind, and I was about to comply when I realized I could do one better than that. I had him right in front of me. Blinking a few times, my eyes met his, and I gasped. That is, I gasped before realizing that if breathing was difficult, gasping was ten times more painful. The look in his eyes only intensified at my (idiotic) outburst, and I wasn't sure how long either of us could hold on.

"Well," sneered Smith, "Have any answers?"

"No answers, but-" A punch to my jaw sent me reeling, and I barely managed to stay on the chair. I'd have tried to run away much earlier if it hadn't been for the menacing hulks of men standing in the corners. I could tell the same thoughts were running through Blaine's mind as he alternated between looking at them, at Smith, at the door, and finally at me.

"If you're sure you don't have any answers, then your friend here has certainly worn out his welcome, don't you agree?"

"Welcome?" I retorted, unable to keep hold of my sharp tongue any longer, "I couldn't be less welcome if I tried. And what proof do you have that there even _is_ a ring at all? In my opinion you're just a bunch of stupid Neanderthals who think money is more important than a freaking human life!"

Smith's expression immediately turned to one of hatred. He came close to me, leaning in until our faces were a foot apart. "A human life? Kid, who's gonna care if you're gone, huh? Who? Seems like there's only one person who counts you as most important in their life and he's right here. So who's gonna be out there looking for you? Sure, a couple months'll be full of searching. Where'd he go?" he asked tauntingly, "But then people will forget. Make excuses. Who's gonna care then?"

_Dad, Finn, Carole, Mercedes,_ my mind told me. But they didn't need me. Finn and Mercedes were fine while I was at Dalton. Surely they'd be ale to cope. Carole had only known me for a few short months, and as much as I'd grown to love her, my loss would be far from traumatizing for her. And Dad had Carole now.

No one would care. The phrase echoed through my head. Smith had gotten lucky. I wasn't just any kid he'd pulled off the street. I was the misfit, the gay kid no one cared about. I was the kid whose family didn't need him. I was the new kid at a private school where he didn't belong, who was missing the school that was forgetting him. I was the kid who only had one person to truly call his. And they had him too.

Keeping my eyes on Blaine, I nodded resolutely. This was it then.

"Let's end this," I said steadily, and it was the first time I'd talked to Smith without my voice wavering the slightest bit. I was sure.

"It ain't that easy, kid. As much as I'd love to get rid of you right here, right now, we're still missing one thing. Answers."

"We don't _have_ answers!" Blaine shouted, surprising me. So far he'd been able to keep a relatively level head (in regards to the situation) and had refrained from freaking out too much. But his voice was full of something a little bit more powerful, a little bit rawer than I was used to from calm, repressed Blaine.

Something told me this was only the beginning.

**A/N: So I've been a little erratic with the placing of author's notes, and I wanted to explain myself. Sometimes an ending has to stand alone, other times it's wrong to interrupt the natural flow from one chapter to another at the beginning. And other times I just like being unpredictable.**

**Well, this chapter is showing some of our conflict rising up to a point, and I'm kind of startled at the similarities between this fic and Torn Apart, another of my stories. They are individual though; I'm making sure of that. Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed for your extremely kind words, they really make me smile. Just a question to anyone who may be reading, should I do a chapter in Blaine's POV, or would you prefer I kept it in Kurt's? Just an option. On a less related note, Prom at McKinley tonight? Oh yes. Can't wait! (And who would've guessed Finn ships Klaine? Rumors just made me love him all the more.)**

**Well, that was certainly long. Forgive my ramblings and leave a review?**


	4. Alone at Last

Disclaimer: I won Glee about as much as Finn likes Jesse

I couldn't even take a breath without ending up on the verge of unconsciousness. How was I supposed to get out of here? I willed my eyes to open, and when they finally did everything seemed out of focus. My head pounded every time I blinked, and I almost closed them again. Sweet, blissful sleep couldn't come fast enough. But I had to be strong. For Blaine. Speaking of Blaine, where was he? With a monumental effort, I turned my head, searching. Not there.

I started to panic inwardly before deciding that he was most likely fine. They said they couldn't hurt him. I dearly hoped they hadn't changed their minds about the whole 'can't hurt the son of the drug dealer' thing they had going on. If that was even true. But, of course, they needed me to extract information from the one person who didn't have any.

But why did I have to be here? Couldn't Smith just go and find out himself?

My eyes slowly slipped close again as I pondered this, only to be forced into consciousness by the last person I wanted to see.

"Hey! Kid!" Smith's gruff voice echoed harshly in the small room.

"My name is Kurt," I mumbled tiredly.

"Yeah, Ken, whatever. You dead or something?" He prodded me with his foot, and I hissed as he connected with a bruise.

"Yes, obviously." My pain lessened the sting of the sarcasm.

I was rewarded for my efforts with a smirk. "Just wait 'til we're done with you, Carl. Let's see how funny you are then." I just sighed, too thoroughly exhausted from that morning to respond with fear.

As I was about to slip back under, I forced out two more words: "Where's Blaine?"

He just laughed. "Anderson? Oh, he's long gone."

Gone? But- he said he wouldn't leave me. He told me to my face that he would rather stay forever than leave me here alone. This didn't make any sense. But my body was protesting too much for me to try and find out the answers.

All it wanted was sleep.

Xxx

I felt my feet hit the pavement, each new step filling me with adrenaline. I could see him in front of me, almost tripping in his haste to get away from that awful place. But it was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to leave me behind. He was supposed to take me with him.

I almost cried out to him, but at that moment he looked over his shoulder, and his usually careful expression was full of primal, unrepressed fear. And suddenly I was panicked too, and running didn't seem like such a bad idea. But he was getting away. Just as he was about to turn the corner I felt rough hands grab me from behind. He started to come back, slowly, cautiously, but it was far too late. I was already being yanked backward, every step yielding fresh pain. Finally, we reached the door that I'd been so sure I'd escaped. He was closer than ever before, close enough to reach out and touch.

"Blaine," I whispered, holding my hand out.

He took one look at it and ran away. And there was no catching him this time.

Xxx

When I woke up, I was disoriented. Very much so. But with a dream that vivid, could I really have expected not to be? I was sweating, and I didn't even have time to think about how gross that was because it had felt so _real_. And I didn't know what to do about it. I tried to curl into a ball, but even that hurt.

It was ironic how the act of trying to comfort myself just made it more painful.

He didn't leave like that. He couldn't have. He _promised_.

"Why did he leave?" I asked without opening my eyes. I assumed Smith was there.

"I didn't want to." I was startled out of my hazy state when I heard that voice. The one that I'd promised I would never forget. My eyes shot open so fast I became dizzy, drinking in the sight of him. He was still wearing the Dalton slacks, but his blazer was gone, in its place a white dress shirt. His hair was in the same state it had been in before, and I was shocked by how little had changed about him. The only thing that was different was the look in his eyes. The last time I'd seen him had been when my vision was distorted by fiery pain.

"Blaine," I breathed out his name, "Where did you go? I was so worried-"

His harsh laugh interrupted me. "_You_ were worried? After what I had to see yesterday, I-" he faltered, "I don't think you need to worry about anyone but yourself."

I just waited patiently for the other part of my question to be answered.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair (how I'd missed that), and paused. He opened his mouth a few times, but closed it again, as if he knew what he wanted to say, just not how to word it.

"Blaine?" he looked up from his feet, finding me still on the ground, "I just want to know where you went. You can tell me the why and how later. Okay?"

He turned, devoid of emotion, and at that moment it was like all of his sophistication had flown out the window. "I went to the back lot with him, Kurt, and I was _so_ scared, you can't even know-" at this point he started to cry, and it was so unlike him that I was in shock for a moment, "I- I thought they- that they were gonna _kill_ you, and I-"

I tried to inch my way over to him, but the room started spinning the second I shifted my weight.

"Blaine, I need you to come over here, okay?" He just looked at me, silent tears still running down his face, and I needed him to be close to me. He'd been there for me every time I needed it. "Come here," I said with a little more force.

He walked over slowly, kneeling down directly next to me. He proceeded to bury his head in his hands, body shaking the slightest bit.

"I'm so weak," he stated bluntly, voice cracking.

"No you are _not_. Anybody going through what you've been going through would be torn up about it. You've been strong, Blaine, so strong. We'll get out of this, somehow. I promise."

"Don't. Don't promise." He sounded so broken. I tugged him a little bit closer against my better side (neither could be considered 'good' at the moment) and gently took one of his hands in mine. It was tense and curled into a fist, but I slowly coaxed him into letting me hold it.

"Fine. But I can tell you that we're getting out. I know it."

"You don't get it," he finally said, and the panic was starting to reach his eyes again. They were wider than before, and red and puffy from crying. He looked like he was going to say something else, but just shut down again.

"What don't I get?" I asked, still dutifully ignoring the burning pain in my side with every word, every breath.

"We can't just waltz out of here. He h-has a g-gun."

"I can't say that surprises me." The un-phased tone of my voice was slightly unsettling, but the fact that he was armed really wasn't shocking. I just thought he'd have taken it out before now. The abstract thought of the gun I was perfectly fine with. I had a feeling, though, that I'd be singing a different tune when it was pointed at my face.

"But he threatened to kill you! He said if I d-didn't start telling him things he would j-just shoot you, and I c-can't let that h-happen."

His breathing was erratic, coming out in short gasps, and I gripped his hand tighter. "You have nothing to tell him."

"But I can't just tell him nothing! I'm not that good of an actor, he'd be on to me in a second if I lied, but I can't just lose you like this."

And, of course, Smith picked that moment to return.

Xxx

"Well hello there. As much as this reunion warms my heart, I believe we have some business to attend to. I'm assuming you're ready to talk, Anderson?"

Blaine just stood in stony silence, not answering. There wasn't anything he could say, anyways.

"You know, I did have this new toy I was dying to try out…" I blanched, thoughts immediately flitting to the aforementioned gun and saw the same expression on Blaine's face.

"Why are we even here? You just keep saying it's bigger than us, but we're in the middle of it. Don't we deserve to know?" Blaine's outburst was unexpected, but he'd voiced the exact question I'd been too afraid to ask. What was even going on here?

Smith walked towards me slowly, smirking. As he reached the chair he moved until he was behind it and rested his hands on my shoulders. My first instinct was immediately to tense up, but that just caused a wave of pain to go through my already aching body. The air escaped from between my clenched teeth in a loud hiss and he just stood there. The weight of his hands was irrationally terrifying. It wasn't that he probably would end up hurting me, it was that he could. And then slowly, ever so slowly, his right hand moved. I heard Blaine's strangled gasp but I didn't dare look behind me. That was when I felt it.

Cold metal pressed against my temple.

"Do you _think_ you deserve to know?" he taunted, and I flinched at the sudden movement of the gun against my head. I tried to think of something, anything that would get my mind off of it, but it was infuriatingly difficult. The presence of it was enough to send me into a panic, but I kept it together the best I could on the outside. _You're good at this. Hold your head high. Smith's no better than any other bullies you faced._ The voice in my head was helpful, but not reassuring. Because when I honestly let myself think about it, had any of my other bullies had a gun?

"Don't hurt him," his voice was suddenly pleading, "You can mess with my mind in whatever sick, twisted way you want, but don't touch him."

"Why don't we find out what Cory thinks, shall we?"

"It's Kurt," Blaine replied blackly with a furious glare that sent shivers down my spine.

"Do you think I honestly care?" Smith shook his head pityingly. "If only I were allowed to knock some sense into that tiny, stubborn little brain of yours, Anderson. Too bad I've got to settle for taking out my anger on your friend, isn't it? Not quite as gratifying," as he said this he punctuated by suddenly hitting me with the barrel, and Blaine's eyes widened, locking on mine, "or is it? That sickeningly heartbroken look on your face might be some fun after all."

Suddenly Blaine was talking rapidly, tripping over his words, "I could go. I could go and find out for you. I could find out the information you need, I just need a little time, please, let me go and find out. I know I can, I just-"

"Why would I let you go? What's to stop you from calling the police the second you leave?" Blaine's eyes connected with mine, and Smith seemed to find all the answer he needed in that simple look. "Perfect," he sneered, "That'll work just fine. If I hear one siren, or if someone shows up unannounced, I'm not hesitating to shoot."

When Blaine froze, not moving a muscle, Smith said, "I'm giving you two days. You hear? If you aren't back in 48 hours with some useful information I'll consider letting your friend live."

With an abrupt nod, Blaine was running out the door and tearing around the corner. I saw the mop of curly hair flying around before he was gone. It was awful to see him go, but I knew it was the only way I would survive. And I needed to stay alive for him. I needed to see him again. I could feel panic welling up inside of me. It was the first time since I'd been forced to call him that I'd really been alone here. And now I knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill me.

Xxx

_I don't know what to do_

_And I don't know what to say_

_I've just got to stay alive_

_For one more lonely day_

_If I never see him smile_

_If I just sit down and cry_

_If I look up to the heavens_

_And ask them why? Why?_

_Why do I have to be alone?_

_Why did I end up in this place?_

_What if I forget his voice?_

_Or if I forget his face?_

_I don't know what to do_

_And I don't know what to say_

_I've just got to stay alive_

_For one more lonely day_

**A/N: And the plot is set back into motion. I will most likely do some or all of the next chapter in Blaine's POV because of the circumstances, and because he is in the position that involves more action at the moment. I will come back to Kurt though, I promise! The last bit is a poem more than a song, just something that wrote itself on the page. It fit, so think of it as a kind of conclusion of Kurt's feelings? Or something equally deep and exciting?**

**On a less related note, prom anyone? I totally called Kurt being prom queen, and then I felt really bad when I was right. I was so happy Blaine ran after him though. We finally found out about some of Blaine's elusive past too! It's great to see so much of him! And if they plan on this much Klaine in the show, it's only fair to assume that Blaine Warbler will eventually be Blaine Directions ;) As much as I love Finn and Finchel, I'm finding myself strangely attracted to St. Berry. It was probably their dancing, it was too adorable, and I loved how happy they seemed. Call me a hopeless romantic. But, as Kurt said, "Jesse St. James Jesse St. Sucks!" in the next episode, so we'll have to see.**

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed or is just reading this story. A special shoutout to anyone who may have just caught up! I would love to hear from you! Reviews make me smile : )**

**Have a beautiful day! (or night!)**


	5. Day 1

**A/N: Hello again, readers. I'd first like to apologize for the delay in updating; this chapter was giving me some issues. Have no fear, though, the next should be up soon. I've been sick, so that equates to time at home doing nothing. Joy. **

**I'm going to Glee Live on Saturday. Be jealous.**

**Disclaimer: I own Glee like this chapter is fluffy.**

Blaine POV:

I never even said goodbye.

The second I heard those words I was flying out the door, sprinting as fast as I could possibly go. My throat burned and my legs ached but I wasn't going to stop until I got to my car. It had been a long enough jog down to the warehouse, but at this pace it felt like forever. I couldn't stop, couldn't slow down. Every second counted.

The clock was ticking.

Xxx

I threw open the car door, hands shaking wildly as I yanked my keys out of the glove compartment. Had I really put them there only two days ago? Then again, two days could change everything.

I was in no condition to drive. I knew that. Yet, even as I thought that, I careened down the narrow streets. Drivers honked, pedestrians stared. I ignored them all. I tried again to remember if my dad had said anything at all about a ring of conspirators, about drugs, about anything that could possibly be illegal. I came up blank. Again.

My knuckles were white as I gripped the steering wheel, some of my internal frustration making itself visible. Faster, faster, faster. Every time I reached a red light I cursed the universe.

Finally I pulled up to my house, shaking my head at the newly decorated front garden. I ran up to the door, not even bothering to ring the doorbell. My fists made dull thumps as I pounded on the heavy wood.

"Blaine darling?" I looked up into my mom's shocked face. I couldn't help but look for clues about something, anything, that would help me. She only looked surprised. Before I could protest she was pulling me into a bone-crushing hug that was more for her than it was for me. I just stood there, letting her hug me, even though I was itching to see my father.

"Oh, Blaine. Never do that to us again! I was so worried!" I squirmed a little, almost drowning in her distinctive perfume. I needed to get to my dad. I needed to know if anything was true, and I needed to get back to Kurt. And I had to do it all without my parents finding out what I was doing.

"It's okay Mom, I'm fine. I'm actually really tired, can I go to my room?"

"You can when you tell me where in the world you were!"

"There was an emergency with a friend."

"Who? Are they all right?"

"You don't know him. He's a Warbler, he got really sick. He's fine, though. Can I go?"

She looked at me sternly, hands on her hips. "Make sure you tell me where you are next time, we really were worried sweetheart. You have a phone for a reason, you know. You can go. You look like you could use some sleep."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I tore up the stairs. I wanted to talk to my father more than anything, but I needed to look presentable first. As my mom had so kindly pointed out, I looked like a mess. I wasn't getting any information out of my dad if he was busy asking _me_ questions.

Yanking open my bedroom door, I sighed in relief at the familiar sight. My clothes were no longer strewn around the floor (thanks, Mom) but my I-Pod was still in the dock and my drawer was still open. For some reason the little details calmed me down enough to think straight. Walking to the mirror, I methodically worked a brush through my insanely tangled curls and washed the flecks of dirt off of my face. Grabbing the concealer I hadn't used in years, I covered up the dark circles under my eyes.

Who knew it would come in handy for more than covering up bruises?

I then slipped out of my pants and dress shirt. My blazer was still sitting where I'd left it when I'd spoken with Smith. I shuddered, remembering. It wasn't something I could forget easily.

"_Hey, Anderson. Get over here." I scrambled to my feet, not wanting to know what would happen if I disobeyed. Kurt had been through enough already, it wasn't right by any standards to make him suffer any more than he already had to. My blazer was discarded on the musty floor, crumpled in a heap._

"_What do you want?" I asked, keeping my voice low but polite._

"_Just to talk to you. Who is that kid to you, anyways?"_

"_That kid happens to be my best friend." It probably wasn't a good idea to give up any more information than that. Any less and he's know I was lying, any more and he would have more of a reason to hate him than before._

_Smith just watched me, eyes carefully trained on mine. I refused to give him the satisfaction of stepping down. We stood there, eyes locked, until he smirked._

"_How touching. You came racing here because your best friend sounded like he was in trouble. I wish my best friend were that nice. Oh wait, he's dead." He chuckled humorlessly and I just waited._

"_You know, he might be a little more useful than I thought. His screams are beautiful, almost angelic…"_

_I let out a choked noise. No. He couldn't do this. I felt tears spilling over my cheeks. This was so wrong on so many levels. We were only teenagers, what had we ever done to deserve this? And why wasn't I the one sitting where Kurt was sitting now, curled around his injured side. The rib that was broken because I couldn't remember the name of one person._

"_He never did anything to you! Why can't you just leave him alone and take _me_? I'm the one you want. Just please, let him go-" I couldn't finish._

"_Now why would I do that? He defied me, he chose not to call you when I asked nicely, he chose to try to protect you. And as much as I would love to knock you around a little bit, I can't. It's part of the deal. It sure is fun to see your face when your best friend is turning black and blue. And just so you know, I don't plan on keeping him around for much longer. I might even end it quickly if he's nice. Though, from what I've seen, that probably won't happen. It really is a shame…"_

_I felt my blood run cold. Images of blood and bruises filled my head and I cringed. This couldn't be happening. Knowing Kurt, he would never go down without a fight. Never. That probably scared me the most. _

"_Please, please don't do this."_

"_If you don't want him to suffer I could just end it now."_

_End it now? My brain took a moment to process his request. Now. As in, while he was asleep. But-_

_He pulled out a shiny piece of metal and my eyes instantly widened in horror. "Don't. You don't have to end it at all, just let us go and leave. They'll never track down a Smith, just please, don't."_

"_He always seemed like the stronger one, you know. I brought him here and I could tell he was thinking about you by the way he looked when I said your name. Such a shame."_

_I couldn't respond. My world was tilting dangerously and my breath was coming in short gasps._

"_No, please, no. I- I'll try to remember, he can help me. You just can't do this to him. He's been through so much," my voice cracked on the last word. _

"_One last chance, Anderson. You know, I'm usually not this generous. Consider yourselves lucky."_

_I breathed out a sigh of relief, suddenly exhausted. I turned to walk back to Kurt, but my way was blocked._

_I wouldn't see him until the next morning, but I could hear him screaming in his sleep perfectly fine._

I shuddered, holding on to the back of my desk chair so tightly it was painful. Remembering wouldn't do me any good right now. I walked around my room numbly, trying to slow my racing heart. Slipping on some sweatpants and an old T-shirt, I tried to breathe.

I needed a plan.

It sounded so much simpler if I left it like that. Just a plan. But this was real. Kurt's life was on the line.

Maybe it would be best to just ask my father bluntly? But I wasn't sure if I could do that without rousing suspicion.

I was still thinking when I heard a knock on my door. I ran to the bed, pulling myself under the sheets, and yelled, "Come in!"

"Blaine? Are you all right, son? We were worried sick, where were you?"

It was the moment of truth. Everything depended on this conversation. "There was an emergency at Dalton. It's fine, though. People were talking about a drug ring?"

A flash of indecision crossed my father's face. "Strange…Well, I hope the emergency wasn't too much of a problem. Just make sure to call us next time, or give us some warning."

And with that, he walked out, taking any hope that I'd had of getting information with him.

I punched my pillow, swearing, and picked up my phone. I needed to talk to someone, anyone, about this. There were only two people I could think of.

Xxx

"Hello?"

"Wes!"

"Blaine? Where the hell have you been? We've been calling you but you weren't at Dalton or at home. No one knew what to think."

"It was an emergency. Is David there?"

"Yeah," he heard David pipe up, "You're on speaker now. It's just the two of us."

"It- It's Kurt."

"What do you mean? He isn't sick or something? We assumed…"

"No, he's not." I felt my voice getting hoarse. "H-he got kidnapped, kind of."

"What? By who? Why?"

"Some guy named Smith, though that probably isn't his name. It- it was a plan to get me to talk. Apparently my dad's some drug lord and I would have information. Information this guy really wants. So to get me to talk, he's basically abusing Kurt. But I don't know anything, and it was so horrible, and I told him I could get him the info he needs. I just don't know how."

Silence. I could practically feel their eyes widening over the line.

"What are you gonna do?" It was Wes who spoke up first.

"I don't know. I only have two days, and that started this morning, and if I'm not back with useful information then he's just gonna kill him. It'll be all my fault."

"No, it won't. It's not anyone's fault but that bastard's. Have you called the police?"

"He'll just kill Kurt. I can't do anything. I shouldn't have even called you guys. I'm just so scared." I felt ashamed at how small my voice got, but they needed to realize what a big deal this was. It wasn't a movie, or a book, or just some fictional story. This was real, and terrifying, and I needed help.

I couldn't get through it on my own.

"Okay man, calm down," said David, but I could hear the slightest edge of panic to his voice, "Is he okay right now?"

"I don't know! I think so, but I need to get back as soon as I can. I just don't know what to do."

"Talk to your dad," Wes told him authoritatively. He seemed to be the most collected of the three. "Ask him right out, you can't skirt around the issue. If you can, try to get access to his files for work, or anything that could be helpful."

"O-Okay. Thanks, guys. I'll tell you if anything…happens."

"You'd better. David and I are going to do some research, okay? Good luck."

"Thanks." It was a whisper.

"Anytime."

The line went dead, and I looked outside. The sun was setting, and my father's light was turned off. There really wasn't anything I could do at the moment but wait. Planning out a conversation in my head, I began to map out what I would say to my father. It wasn't long, though, before the exhaustion of the previous days caught up to me, and I was out like a light, hoping that I wouldn't have any nightmares.

If only I could be so lucky.

End of Day 1

**Reviews make the heavens sing!**


	6. Day 2

**A/N: I apologize for the quality of this, I really do. Writer's block - !%$*%&$#$%^& Anyways, I hope you can forgive me? The action will pick up more next chapter, too, and I really just wanted to get this out.**

**Disclaimer: I own Glee like this story is fluffy.**

24 Hours Remaining:

I opened my eyes slowly, luxuriating in the warmth of my bed. I'd had the worst dream last night. It was so vivid. I shook my head, attempting to clear it. What day was it, anyways? Wednesday? Thursday?

No, because after school on Thursday I had to go to that warehouse-

The warehouse. The dream. It couldn't be real. My overactive imagination was making things up again, wasn't it? It couldn't have happened.

I sat up, burying my head in my hands. It had happened. I was here, idle in my bed, doing nothing. If my quick calculations were correct, I had less than a day to get the information I needed back to Kurt.

Information I wasn't even sure existed.

With a glance at my computer, my worst fears were confirmed. I had less than 24 hours to do this. But if I let anybody know what I was doing, bad things would happen. Things I'd rather not think about at the moment. I jumped out of bed, still disoriented, and pulled on the first things I could find. I wasn't even sure what I was wearing, but I continued to rush through my morning routine, haphazardly running a brush through my tangled curls and brushing my teeth just enough to get by. Running downstairs, I found my mom making breakfast calmly.

"Good morning sweetie, feeling better?"

"Yeah. 'Morning. Where's Dad?"

"He just left for work."

No freaking way. I couldn't believe it. Before I was even aware of what I was doing, I was grabbing my keys from the counter and running out the door. My mom called after me, but I tuned her out. Maybe after this whole mess I could tell her…but right now, I needed to focus. She'd understand if she knew what was at stake: Everything.

I was almost my car, ignoring the frantic footsteps behind me, when I felt a tug on my shirt. I was pulled backwards and I flailed the slightest bit before turning to meet my mother's eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was low and dangerous.

"I have to go find Dad."

"You'll see him tonight! What, pray tell, is important enough for you to try and leave _again_ without telling me where you're going. You were gone for two full days, Blaine. No contact, no reassurances, nothing. I was so close to calling the police to find you. Never do that to me again. Now, go back in the house this instant."

Tears had filled her eyes, but she still looked murderous. I was torn. On one hand, I wasn't too keen to disobey her. On the other hand (the currently prevailing one), I couldn't just sit at home all day. My time was dwindling as I stood there. I could almost feel the seconds ticking by.

"Now, you're going to go inside, eat breakfast, and fix your hair. It's a mess."

I nodded numbly. The second she let go, I sprinted. Yanking the door behind me, I locked the entire car. Hands shaking, I turned the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life and it drowned out the yelling outside. I heard a thud against the passenger door, but I didn't even look up.

As I drove away, following the familiar path to my father's offices, I felt an urge to look back. Some part of me wanted to see my mom, standing there, waving her amrs angrily. She always said I got my stage presence from her.

Another part of me wanted to remember her the way she'd looked when I'd won my first singing competition. She'd swung me around, laughter evident in her expression, and told me how proud she was.

All of me agreed, however, that I was acting like I was saying goodbye to her. It felt wrong, alien, to think that she wouldn't be there when I came back. _If_ I came back.

I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn't noticed that the speed limit had dropped to sixty until I heard sirens behind me.

Funny, how I could hear the sirens cutting through my thoughts, yet my mother's cries had fallen on deaf ears.

Xxx

"_He's coming back," I repeated stubbornly. No matter how many times Smith tried to make me doubt him, I couldn't. He was the light at the end of the tunnel. Extinguish that, and I was broken. Broken beyond repair._

"_You know, the novelty of that phrase got old about thirty hours ago. How about, 'He'll abandon me once and for all and get away alive?'"_

"_No dice." My voice was dull, but it still had the slightest bite to it. It seemed to be the only emotion that was breaking through at the moment. The only one besides hope. But hope was fickle, not to be trusted. It was also the only thing that was keeping me from breaking down in this dark cave of a room._

_Hope_

_The poison that consumes_

_Logic thrown into the wind_

_Blind, seeking, searching hope_

_Hope that dreams _

_That kills the weak_

_That whispers of impossible things_

_Makes itself so easily clung to_

_So sweet, relief_

_Don't fall into the trap_

_It dulls the senses, blocks the light_

_Laced with lies_

_A shell of glass_

_Beautiful_

_Transparent_

_And prone to shattering_

_Don't fall_

_When your safety net is weaved_

_With shards of broken promises_

_Don't fall_

_Xxx_

I straightened my tie hastily, checking my appearance in the mirror. This could be my only chance to get the vital information I needed. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about how much rode on a single conversation. I closed my eyes, trying desperately to shove down the panic that seemed ever-present since my first encounter with Smith.

I looked down at my phone. 9:58, the numbers declared cheerily. I swallowed, releasing my grip on the worn out leather steering wheel slowly. The seat belt seemed to be digging into my skin, so I unbuckled that as well. I tried to fix my hair to the best of my abilities, but there wasn't much I could do without copious amounts of hair gel. I took a deep breath.

Should I plan a speech in my head? Should I just let whatever happens, happen? I didn't know what to do.

10:08, the phone read. I hadn't even realized how long everything I'd been doing had taken.

I was trying to buy time I didn't have.

Xxx

With a steadying breath that shook as I drew it, I removed my hands from the steering wheel. They shook.

_Calm down. This will never work if you're on edge. Just remember why you're doing it. He's waiting for you. He could be totally fine. Or…_

And I was back to square one: sweaty palms, pounding heart, slight nausea. I only hoped I could relax enough to convince my dad to tell me what I needed to know. It was absolutely vital. It really wasn't even an option. I had to find out.

I didn't want to think about the consequences if I didn't.

My dad's receptionist greeted me with a smile as I entered the office, and I smiled back. Actually, I attempted a smile. I was still unsure of how successful it was, but I kept moving. My steps were erratic and awkward, as if my brain had disconnected from my body.

There. He was sitting, head buried in his work as usual. I made my way over to him slowly, careful not to scare him.

"Hi, Dad."

"Blaine! Great to see you! What's going on?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. It's kind of important." I hadn't planned on saying that, and the way his eyes seemed to focus a bit more closely was frightening. He swiveled in his chair, giving me his full attention.

I wasn't sure if I wanted it.

"Okay," he said, "I have a conference call in about thirty minutes, but I should be free until then."

Which is how we ended up sitting in old, beat up couches in the office's miniscule café on the third floor. I had a coffee in hand, not that I was going to drink it. The second I'd started giving the barista my order I'd completely lost my appetite.

"So, what did you want to talk about, son?"

"Well…I have a friend who's doing a report on the history of drug rings in this area, and he said that you were part of one. Is that true?"

I nearly smacked my head against the wall. There was no way he could fall for that. It was a painfully simple, naïve, thinly veiled attempt to get the information I wanted. Certainly he'd dealt with worse before.

"He said that I-I was part of one? Why, that's ridiculous, I never…"

"What if I said someone's life depended on your honesty?"

You could hear a pin drop after I finished my question. He looked at me calculatingly for a moment and I found myself staring right back, the same steely determination evident in my eyes.

"This isn't something to joke about, Blaine."

"I never said I was. This isn't for a history project. I lied. But it's extremely important that you answer me."

"What do you mean 'someone's life'?" For the first time since we'd started speaking, he looked concerned.

"Exactly what I said. This isn't a game. I really need to know."

"You're asking _me_ if I'm part of a drug ring? You have to understand how ridiculous that is."

"You haven't denied it."

I caught him. He looked uncomfortable before, but once I said that his face fell. He slumped into his chair, kicking his deep brown loafers out in front of him. I'd never seen him looking less professional.

"No, I haven't. But I need to know a few things. First, how you even found out about any of it. Second, why you need to know. And third, whose life in danger." His near admission was encouraging, but I still didn't have any answers.

"It's kind of complicated…I can't answer your first question, and the second kind of goes with the first. But I can't let them kill him, Dad." My voice crept up, panic tingeing it. "I can't. He's one of my best friends. Please."

"Just tell me what's going on and we can fix it. Why is his life in danger, exactly?"

"Because they're trying to get to _me_. It's all my fault, and I can't even help him. I didn't know anything and they were hitting him and I didn't know what to do. They said they were going to kill him anyways. Even if we did give the information. That he was _disposable_." The last word cracked harshly, betraying the tears I was trying to hold back.

"Calm down. Hey, relax." His softer tone, for one reason or another, infuriated me.

"How am I supposed to relax when they have him? Huh? What if they had Mom, would you just relax?"

"No, of course not-" my dad begins, raising up his hands in a show of mock surrender. But I'd had enough.

"Just tell me what the ring is! I don't have enough time for this."

"No." I saw red at his flat response.

"They're going to kill him!"

"Then we go and get him. Where is he?"

"He- he's in the abandoned warehouse on Franklin."

"All right. I'll call the police and we'll find him. It's going to be all right."

Smith's words echoed harshly in my ears.

_If I hear any police sirens, I won't hesitate to slit his throat._

I was led numbly through the door by my father, and I felt the fight drain out of me. He was a lawyer, after all. He was used to getting his way. The way tears were stinging my eyes couldn't have mattered less to him.

Xxx

_I hugged my knees to my chest._

"_He's only got a few hours left," said Smith gleefully. I narrowed my eyes and glared._

"_He'll be here."_

_In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens coming to my rescue. Did they know they would be the thing that ended up killing me?_

**Reviews make me smile!**_  
><em>


	7. Fading

**A/N: Special thanks to anonymous reviewer 'asdf' for giving me the kick in the butt I needed to actually finish this chapter. About half of it was sitting on my computer for over a month, and I just barely managed to salvage the train of thought I was attempting to complete. Thanks so, so much to those of you who are actually still reading after that ridiculous wait. I can't promise another chapter too soon, but I can promise that I'll try to wrap this story up as soon as I can. For now, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own Glee as much as Smith seems to know Kurt's name.**

The sirens were blaring. Louder, louder, louder. They were getting closer with each passing second. I knew where they were going. Or rather, coming. I looked over to see Smith, disbelief obvious in his features.

"So he did it," he said, looking at me with obvious annoyance. "He actually risked your life to expose me. He's got more guts than I would've guessed. Sucks to be you, Kent."

I felt a pit in my stomach when I thought about his words. I was going to die. All I wanted was to see _him_ one more time.

I wrapped my hands around my knees, sinking further into the musty corner. I felt a cobweb brush the back of my neck and shuddered. I probably looked like a mess so far away from all of the amenities of home. Speaking of home, I wondered how my friends and family were doing. Would my dad be worried? Would Finn be pacing, that crinkle in his brow present as it always was when he was stressed? Would Mercedes be calling me every few seconds, scared for my life? Or was I already a distant memory?

I hoped, for their sake, that the last was true.

"Congratulations," I said quietly, voice raspy from disuse over the past several days, "You won."

He laughed, the sound bitter. "I didn't win. Not with the police here. No, you're boyfriend won this one. We're the losers here."

I thought for a moment, but none of it made any sense at all. How could _he_ be the winner?

"What's his prize?" I asked, a dark edge to my voice.

"My capture, I suppose. And he unearthed a drug ring so large it's known all around the world. Though that might create some family issues considering the fact that the leader is his father. No kid, you're right. He wins nothing. There are no winners in this game."

And with those inspirational words, the sirens ceased. I heard the feedback from the megaphone and a loud, tinny voice echoing off of the walls. Picking up a gun, Smith prodded me in the leg.

"Let's go, kid."

His expression was somber, and for the first time, I felt no hatred. We were all losers in this game. I got up detachedly, letting him grab my arm and lead me to the door. The biting cold of the gun was a bit frightening, but it didn't even matter anymore. All I could see was _him_. Standing there with his hair disheveled looking sleep-deprived. He was out of uniform (one of the few times I'd ever seen him so) and he'd never been more beautiful.

I dimly heard Smith say something, but I didn't know what. I wasn't really paying attention anymore. Blaine wasn't the only one with a severe lack of sleep weighing on him.

I saw him arguing, sending worried glances my way. I saw, but I did not move. He shouted, raged, looked into my eyes with a burning so strong I was swept away. We counteracted each other perfectly. He felt everything acutely. I felt nothing. He threw his arms into the air once more before sprinting in my direction.

That was when the panic set in.

"No!" I cried, seeing his silhouetted form getting closer with each step, "Go! Get out of here! Are you stupid?"

"Kurt!" he just replied unnecessarily.

"How sweet," commented Smith under his breath. I glared at his hand.

When he finally arrived, out of breath, he had no trouble entering through the open door. The police wouldn't get any closer because of the death hanging over my head. Apparently Blaine had no such qualms about my safety.

"Oh, God," he whispered, eyes red. "I'm- this is all my fault." He sounded so broken. I wanted to reassure him, to lay a hand on his arm, but the cool bite of the metal against my temple was enough to hold me back. Who knew how long I would have?

"It's not. You were just trying to do the right thing." I wasn't sure I believed myself, but what else could I say? What choice did I truly have?

He laughed blackly and I hated the sound. I was the reason he was feeling so angry. I was the reason he was feeling such hatred. I was the reason-

Smith's gruff voice cut me off smugly. "You do realize he pretty much signed your death sentence, right? Anderson, you screwed up big time." My eyes narrowed, and no one spoke for one heavy moment.

"Why does it even matter anymore?" I finally asked tiredly. "I'm sick of all these games."

"You and me both, kid. Now scram Anderson, before I blow his head off."

Blaine backed up slowly, hands balled into fists at his sides.

Mine hung limply. I just couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

Xxx

Time is a funny thing.

Some moments pass in the blink of an eye. They float away from you far too quickly, and you wonder how it could possibly be. You wonder how the sun could be gone beneath the clouds. You just left ten minutes ago, right?

Wrong.

Time is deceptive. It swells and dips and skates and drags until you just don't understand anymore. A second can become a minute, a minute an hour. Days upon days can pass that you have absolutely no memory of. But there are moments that you'll remember forever.

Those three days weren't any longer than the first three days of last summer.

But they were the longest three days of my life.

Xxx

"_Step away from the hostage! That's an order!"_

Smith laughed at the tinny voice coming out of the bullhorn.

"Come and get him," he muttered to himself. I focused on steadying my breathing. Panicking wouldn't do anyone any good.

The room was still musty and cramped and the air was still stale, but I could sense another tone to it: defeat.

Xxx

"Are you going to kill me or not?" I finally asked bluntly. I could feel rather than see his eyebrows rise to his hairline.

"You're very forward for someone who has a gun pressed against his head."

"Please," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking, "if you wanted to kill me, you would've the second you heard those sirens."

"I needed a hostage," he replied pompously, but he wavered. I'd definitely caught something.

"And I need a facial," I replied without really thinking about it. I was feeling pretty secure about my status (alive) at the moment and my mind blurted out the first thing I could think of.

So maybe I'd gotten a little off topic, but it was the truth, and if I was going down, I was going down as Kurt Hummel. I wouldn't let him, or anyone else for that matter, change me.

"A facial?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. I didn't blame him. Maybe I really was losing it.

"Yes. And a shower would be nice, too."

My comments effectively shut him up for quite a while, obviously trying to figure out exactly what I was trying to achieve. I wanted to laugh at his obliviousness and I wanted to laugh at my own audacity. It was ridiculous.

Rule Number One when dealing with an armed opponent: Don't aggravate the guy with the gun.

My mind smirked and I felt the closest thing to happiness I'd felt in hours.

Even so, I couldn't bring myself to crack a smile.

Xxx

I began to haphazardly sway on my feet. I'd been standing far too long already, but my body was truly starting to protest now. My vision was swimming the slightest bit and I could've sworn that Blaine and the police were much closer before.

Now they seemed light years away, along with my hopes of survival.

Ha. Who was I kidding? I knew I wouldn't survive from the moment Smith told me I wouldn't. It wasn't unexpected, and in the abstract it was something I could hide in my subconscious for as I wanted. Now that death was literally staring me in the face, though, I wasn't sure if I could handle everything at once.

Sure enough, my vision started to blur more and more. I barely had time to whisper, "tired," hoarsely before I numbly felt my legs collapse and everything turned to blissful, silent, painless darkness.

Xxx

I heard my name. One voice. Calling my name repeatedly, brokenly, from afar. It pleaded to me. _"Oh God, please be fine. Please be okay. Look at me. Oh no, oh Kurt..."_

I wanted to open my eyes. Oh, I wanted to. I knew that voice. That voice had a face and a name and a history.

I wanted to open my eyes with everything that I had.

The darkness claimed me once again.

Xxx

"_Back off! I swear, I'll blow his head off!"_

"_No, you won't." _This voice was calmer, more collected than the one calling my name. It was authoritative and dangerous and had a slightly tinny edge to it. They were still using the bullhorn, I realized dimly.

"_And who's gonna stop me?"_

"_I don't think anyone will have to. You'll stop yourself if you know what's good for you…prison sentence will be…yes, that much shorter…first degree murder…" _I began to fade in and out of consciousness._  
><em>

"_What did he ever do to you?"_ It was the voice, and it had come from a much closer distance. My heart began to beat violently. I was awake, but barely so. My eyes cracked open just the slightest bit and I saw a shadowy figure obstructing my vision. Everything was blurry and dark and the air was still heavily filled with dust. A jolt of fear sliced through me.

"_He knows way too much."_

"_Oh, and that's his fault?" _Sarcasm: The last defense of the witty.

"_Just shut up kid. Let's end this. I'll get rid of your friend, you turn me in, your dad gets exposed, and it's over. No need to argue."_

"_Your name isn't Smith, is it?"_

"_You think I'm stupid?"_

"_If you kill him? Absolutely."_

"_My hands are tied." _He sounded tired, and I couldn't help but feel a pit of dread settle into my stomach. It was over. I was as good as gone.

"_It really doesn't have to be like this. You uncovered the ring. Just tell your boss you killed everyone involved and leave."_

It didn't surprise me that he was still fighting for me. It did surprise me that he still thought he could win.

Finally, my eyes opened all the way. I squinted at first, because the room was exponentially lighter with an open door, even if much of the light was blocked by a figure I recognized easily.

As I was greedily taking a breath (my lungs were thanking me), something caught in my throat. I coughed, choking on particles floating through the air.

There was immediate silence.

"Kurt?" It was a hushed whisper. I looked towards the voice, eyes still blurry from coughing, and attempted a smile. It probably looked more like a grimace.

"Hi." My voice came out hoarse and harsh from lack of use, but it came out all the same.

"Good. You're awake." I was. But I could tell it wouldn't be for long.

"Blaine?" I asked. His attention towards me was so rapt it was nearly strange. But I knew he could tell that I didn't have long. "I know this is really cliché, but can you tell everyone I love them?"

He just nodded.

"I liked you better asleep, Charlie."

"Okay, that's not even close." I didn't have much else to lose; I might as well try to keep my dignity.

"Do you think I care? You're nothing." And then it clicked. As long as he insulted me and treated me like an animal, I was nothing. As long as he called me the wrong name, I could remain nothing. But once I got an identity, I was somebody.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that Smith had a heart, but that place in his chest wasn't fully cauterized quite yet.

Maybe, just maybe, I still had a chance.

**Please review!**


End file.
